


Problem child, problem family

by Zeeexp



Series: Tales of the Universe [1]
Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF, youtube - Fandom
Genre: BAMF Toby Smith | Tubbo, Blood and Injury, Comatose Wilbur Soot, Explicit Language, Gen, Grian and TommyInnit are Siblings, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Mafia AU, Mental Breakdown, Minor Violence, Modern Day, Suicide Attempt, Tommy wears a muzzle, Tubbo with a gun, Watcher Charles | Grian, Wilbur Soot Angst, awesamdad, i rest my case, sbi, they are siblings your honour, what will he do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:27:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 12,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeeexp/pseuds/Zeeexp
Summary: Tommy's [mis]adventures at school. How is he going to keep secrets? He has no idea how to. I mean, he never had to.ORTommy and Tubbo's friendship stirs up schisms, old grudges and maybe, just maybe, a way out of the family for Tommy.
Relationships: Charles | Grian & TommyInnit, Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Floris | Fundy & Wilbur Soot, Jschlatt & Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Jschlatt & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Sally & Wilbur Soot, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Series: Tales of the Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2119080
Comments: 64
Kudos: 461





	1. It stays in the pit

**Author's Note:**

> YA YEET IT'S HERE BOYS, GIRLS AND NONBINARY PEEPS!!! TALES OF THE UNIVERSE, A COLLECTION OF RANDOM FICS WHERE I WRITE STUFF

"Must I go?" Tommy whined, looking up at Wilbur, who marked his book and looked down.  
  


"Tommy, we've spoken about this more than is necessary. You have to get a decent education and increase your feeble vocabulary from just 'Big man' and 'Pogchamp' to something more substantial." Wilbur explained patiently.  
  


Tommy growled and bared his teeth, the way he did when he was pissed off. "Easy for you to say, Wilbur. You've got a university education and shit."  
  


"I would rather you not call me by my name, Tommy," Wilbur commented mildly, in that way that he would speak when he was talking with the henchmen. That voice meant trouble.  
  


Tommy paled and muttered a sorry. Wilbur laid a hand on his back and pushed him gently forward.  
  


"Go ahead, Tommy. Have fun."  
  


Tommy snorted. Yeah right. Have fun? No way in hell was that going to happen.

* * *

  
  
"Class, we have a new student." Dream, their teacher called out, silence descending upon the room. "Please introduce yourself." He nodded to Tommy, turning away to pull down his mask and take a sip of water.  
  


Tommy kicked at the floor, watching his shoelaces trail alongside his foot. "Hello, boys. Girls." He nodded awkwardly at them. "I'm Tommy Innit."  
  


"Please treat your new classmate well. Tommy, take a seat beside Tubbo." The boy in question waved his hand, and he trudged over to the table and flopped down gracelessly. He looked over at Tubbo, who was already bent over, dutifully copying notes as fast as Dream was writing it down. Personally, he couldn't wait for lessons to be over.  
  


"Oooh, look at big man Tommy! Thommy Innit." Tommy closed his eyes briefly. How easy it would be to lash out, to beat that son of a bitch into a bloody pulp. He could do it too, he so could. But he didn't want to. He promised Phil, and he didn't want Tubbo to see-  
  


"Is Thommy Innit a bloody wanker? Yesh, yesh he is."  
  


"Stop it, Purpled."  
  


"Chubbo is standing up for Chommy-"  
  


That was the last straw. Tommy whirled around and sank his fist into the boy's stomach- Purpled was his name, if he remembered correctly- his eyes burning with rage.  
  


"What did you say, bitch boy?" He snarled. He punched the boy in the face, and his nose burst like a water balloon. Tommy took a hit to his face, but it barely fazed him. He had been through worse in his sparring matches, in the "Pit". He fought like a wild animal, kicking, punching, all while throwing vulgarities at the students, the teachers, the people who yanked him away. But he never stopped. It would be okay.  
  


After all, it stays in the pit.

* * *

  
  
"Will Tommy Innit please report to the principal's office." The announcement blared out over the school, a trained silence descending onto the school. All eyes in the classroom turned to the boy in question, who scowled angrily.  
  


"What the fuck does the old man want now?" He got up, walking to the office. His face still throbbed from where the boy had slugged him, and his knuckles were still raw and bloody. His name was...Punz? Purpled! He hated both of them anyway. Their name started with a 'P', and the only big man with a 'P' in his name was Philza.  
  


"Tommy. Take a seat." The principal gestured to the seat opposite him, and Tommy plonked down heavily. "Tommy, do you know why you're in here?"  
  


"No." Tommy replied insolently.  
  


"You are in here because you assaulted a student."  
  


"So?"  
  


"Tommy, he had to be sent to the hospital. He needed several stitches."  
  


"He had it coming. He was bein' a little bitch."  
  


"Tommy, I'll have to call your family. Do you want that?"  
  


Tommy's face split into a wide grin, and the principal shifted uncomfortably. That smile unsettled him. It was the smile of a predator, the smile of a hunter when prey fell into their trap.  
  


"You do that, Mr Principal. You do that."  
  


The principal lifted up the phone and dialed the number already waiting on it. Tommy's smile grew even wider, if that was possible. It looked like a snarl now.  
  


"Mr Minecraft? Ah, principal Sam here. Could you come down to the school for a bit? It's concerning Tommy. Yes, yes, I understand." He put down the phone and interlocked his fingers. "They will be here in a bit."  
  


The minutes ticked by in frosty silence, and Tommy shot down any attempts at conversations with his silence.  
  


A knock resounded on the door, and Sam called for them to enter, relief evident in his voice.  
  


Philza stepped into the office, his height making the office look like a broom closet. He was dressed immaculately in an emerald green suit, paired with a charcoal overcoat. He stepped to one side, and Wilbur walked in.  
  


Wilbur was dressed in that ratty brown greatcoat that he refused to throw away, and a white shirt peeked out of the upturned collar.  
  


Last but not least, Technoblade made his appearance. He had pulled out all the stops, with that thick ermine coat of his and a glittering crown resting on his head.  
  


Tommy took great delight in the fact that Sam's face paled visibly, turning a hilarious shade of green.  
  


"So, what has Tommy been doing in school, Principal Sam?" Phil dropped into a chair, Wilbur and Techno flanking him.  
  


Sam took a few moments to clear his throat. "Well, he got into a fight, Mr Minecraft. I would like to ask: are these your sons?  
  


"You could say so." Phil maintained an easygoing smile. "They are like my own sons."  
  


"Right... Your son, Tommy got into a fight and sent a child into the hospital." Phil looked over at him, his eyes widening. Wilbur whistled lowly, and Techno remained impassive.  
  


"He did now, did he? Well, I will be sure to discipline him thoroughly." Phil stood up, dusting off an imaginary speck of dust. "Thank you very much for this enlightening meeting, Principal Sam."  
  


"Wait I-"  
  


"Come on, boys. The city won't run itself. Oh, and-" Phil pulled out a dark green card with gold letters, sliding it across to the principal. "-please do call me if there are any other incidents."  
  


The door closed on Sam, his face stricken with fear.  
  


Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but the slight tightening of Techno's hand on his shoulder deterred him. They walked silently out of the school, and when Techno's hand released, Tommy wriggled out from his grasp.  
  


"I fucked that bitch up good, I did!" Tommy sounded almost proud, standing tall with his various wounds, which he wore like badges of honour.  
  


"Tell me one thing, Tommy. Did you, or did you not fight that kid for the sheer fucking hell of it?" Phil knelt down, making direct eye contact with Tommy.  
  


"Of course I didn't. He insulted Tubbo, my friend. He's a big man, Phil." His voice turned pleading. "Please let me have a friend. And don't tell him about me, please."  
  


Phil stood up, sighing heavily. "Fine. You can have a friend." He tried to ignore the way Tommy's face lit up, or the way he looked distinctly way more peppy now.  
  


A mafia boss couldn't show weakness, not even in front of his most trusted lieutenants.


	2. On Mount Golgotha

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone gets the reference, I love you. 
> 
> WARNING: IMPLIED MENTAL HEALTH ISSUES, BLOOD AND ATTEMPTED JUMPING!!!! PROCEED WITH ABSOLUTE CAUTION. IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO READ IT, SKIP TO THE END NOTES.

"My unfinished Symphony, forever unfinished!" Wilbur said with a deranged smile on his face, whirling around to look at Phil. Behind him, an orange flower bloomed out of the top of an apartment building, and his son smiled down at him, his coat flapping in the wind.  
  


How had it come to this? His most promising son, driven mad by his own ambitions, his pride and his love.  
  


Love for the city that he grew up in.  
  


Love for the woman who was sure to be watching this on the live broadcast right now, hands over her mouth and tears threatening to spill.  
  


Love for his son, who would be covering his eyes, wondering why his father was doing this.  
  


Phil lifted his gun-

* * *

"No. Why can't I have my own district?" Wilbur whirled around, his coat fanning out from around him. "Technoblade's got one; fuck, even Tommy's got his own!"  
  


"You're not losing your district. You're working with a few more people." Phil patiently explained. He shuffled the documents of Wilbur's mental health examination, a less than satisfactory result.  
  


"Bullshit." Wilbur all but screamed. He turned away, and his shoulders heaved. It took Phil Wilbur's death to realise that Wilbur wasn't crying back then.  
  


He was laughing.  
  


When Wilbur turned back to face Phil, there was a determination in his eyes. "Let me have a compromise. If I don't manage to save my district by one month, on the sixteenth of November, you can take over the district."  
  


Phil considered this statement carefully. He could see no loopholes in it, as expected by Wilbur, who had a way with words.  
  


"Done. By the sixteenth of November, your district will be mine."  
  


"Oh, I don't think so, Phil. I don't think so."

* * *

  
For the entirety of the month, Phil monitored Wilbur's district, codenamed L'manberg. Along the way, he discovered Wilbur had been hiding a secret girlfriend from him: Sally, a marine biologist, and Fundy, a son. Phil had had a little chuckle at that. Imagine that. Wilbur having a family. Phil supposed he was a grandfather now.  
  


Apart from a slight increase in profits, Wilbur's district remained the same. Whatever he was doing, it wasn't possible to be inscribed onto the reports that were sent to the headquarters of Sleepy Bois Inc. Phil finally took a trip down there, dressed casually. It took him a moment to realise, but then he noticed.  
  


No crime. There was no crime in the district. He recalled one of the figures in Wilbur's report; zero in complaints. Phil chuckled.  
  


"My fucking god. You really did it. Zero crime rate."  
  


The days ticked down, closer and closer to November 16th. On the fateful day, Phil made his way to the district, noting that the streets were unusually empty. His hand reached into his pocket and brushed against the muzzle of a gun. There was a group gathered around the bottom of a building, pointing and murmuring. Phil looked up, and his heart stopped.  
  


Wilbur.  
  


He was perched on the edge of a high rise building, teetering between life and death, love and hate.  
  


"Phil! My father!" Wilbur stood up, and Phil's heart climbed into his mouth. Wilbur smiled down at him. "I'm so glad you could make it!"  
  


Phil cupped his hands together, shouting up to Wilbur. "What the hell are you up to?"  
  


Wilbur's smile grew even larger. "A celebration! To inaugurate my district into yours. Don't you want that, Phil?" And he clicked a detonator in his hand.  
  


The windows behind him exploded, fire licking at the glass shards. Wilbur's high cackle echoed across the streets, mixing with the terrified screams of the people. Across the city, bombs went off, on Wilbur's signal. He turned to admire the vermillion flames pouring out of the penthouse.  
  


"My unfinished Symphony, forever unfinished!" Wilbur screamed with a deranged smile on his face, whirling around to look at Phil. Behind him, an orange flower bloomed out of the top of an apartment building, and his son smiled down at him, his coat flapping in the wind.  
  


How had it come to this? His most promising son, driven mad by his own ambitions, his pride and his love.  
  


Love for the city that he grew up in.  
  


Love for the woman who was sure to be watching this on the live broadcast right now, hands over her mouth and tears threatening to spill.  
  


Love for his son, who would be covering his eyes, wondering why his father was doing this.  
  


Phil lifted his gun, but Wilbur was faster.  
  


He dropped the detonator, and-  
  


Phil discarded his gun and ran, pushing past the screaming hordes. His son fell, as though in slow motion. Phil couldn't move fast enough, and he cursed viciously.  
  


Wilbur crashed onto the top of a white van, rolling off the windscreen and onto the tarmac. Phil skidded to a stop, his hand fluttering over the large shard of glass embedded in Wilbur's torso. He couldn't deal with it. The way his hand was uncomfortably warm against the back of Wilbur's head. The way his hands left little red thumbprints when he called the emergency services to his son.  
  


He found himself babbling.  
  


"Wilbur, Wilbur, you sweet, deranged, damaged, fragile son. I wouldn't have taken your district away. Your L'manberg, your beloved. Your Sally, and Fundy, I'll take care of them of them if you- no, you won't, I swear you won't, the ambulance is coming, Wilbur. Hang on." Phil whispered into Wilbur's ear as he was taken into a hospital.  
  


He looked up at the white van, where red spider lilies bloomed across snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SAFE.
> 
> Wilbur has lost control of his part of the city, and he slowly spirals into insanity, which ends in a "grand" celebration to "inaugurate [his] district into Phil's".


	3. Pesky Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how, but somehow I managed to merge Watcher lore into this and god, technology makes everything so much easier. I promise, some Wilbur stuff is coming up soon, but it is bittersweet.

"Sir."  
  


"Hm?"  
  


"It's Wilbur, sir. The authorities pronounced him dead. Apparently, he died in the hospital."  
  


"Wilbur?"  
  


"District facilitator of L'manberg, sir."  
  


Grian turned around, looking at the henchman quivering under his blank gaze. He remembered Wilbur. They had gone on some heists together, but other than that, they had never really interacted. Their zones were on opposite sides, both literally and figuratively. There had been a schism.  
  


"Is that what they said?" He mused, more to himself than the henchman.  
  


"Sir?"  
  


"Do a search. Mobilise the Watchers, I want every scrap of information on Wilbur to be dug up and on my table by five o'clock sharp."  
  


"Yes sir."  
  


The door closed, and Grian ran a hand through his hair, sighing loudly. Tommy must be distraught. Wilbur was very close to him, and he had been grateful to the man for taking care of him for Grian. He reached over to his bookshelf and tugged on the red one, watching the bookcase slide to one side smoothly. He stepped inside, and the platform beneath his feet shuddered. He removed his mask and pocketed it.  
  


He stepped out of the elevator, watching the wall slide shut seamlessly. He sauntered onto the streets, waving to some of his friends. Mumbo, with his automobile repair shop and immense talent in creating complicated gadgets and equipment.  
  


Scar, a paraplegic who specialised in camouflage. Coincidentally, he was also a high ranking officer.  
  


Grian looked around, seeing letters change hands, Watchers in disguise receiving and relaying instructions. They were people you saw everyday: the bus conductor, your eccentric but friendly neighbourhood grandma, or that little girl who carries her kitten everywhere.  
  


The Watchers never intervened. They simply observed, and reported.  
  


Grian pulled out his phone and sent a quick text.  
  


_G: Where are you? Pufferfish Alleyway._  
  


When Grian got no reply, he pocketed his phone and made his way to the alley.  
  


The alley was dark. It was damp, and it smelled. Cops rarely came down here, and those who did usually found nothing. He saw a car parked nearby and walked over casually, sliding into the driver's seat. Tommy was seated in the back, his hands wrapped around his knees, which were drawn up to his chest. Tears streamed down his face silently.  
  


"You okay, Tommy?" Grian asked gently.  
  


Tommy shook his head, shaking tears loose. "It's not fair, Grian." His voice wobbled, but he somehow managed to keep a steady tone of voice.  
  


"Phil did this to him. To Wilbur. He forced Wilby's hand." Tommy sobbed, his old pet name for Wilbur slipping out. Grian's heart squeezed painfully, and he reached over and pulled Tommy into a hug.  
  


"Don't worry, Toms." Grian murmured, rubbing circles and rhythmically patting Tommy on his back. "I'm digging up information right now on Wilbur."  
  


"Why? He's gone, Grian. This isn't a game. You can't- you can't just fucking respawn or some shit. You can't!"  
  


"Maybe not." Grian whispered. "But I don't think he died." He imagined Wilbur lying prone on a hospital bed, surrounded by large, blocky beeping machines, his chest rising and falling with every infinitesimal breath of his, pulling and pushing him closer and farther from death.  
  


"Now, I need to know something." Grian let go of Tommy, wiping away his tears. "Did you drive here by yourself? Underage?"  
  


Tommy flushed red, and he muttered, "I wanted to get here faster since I was running late for a meeting, innit?"  
  


Grian sighed. "Fine. But I'm driving this time." He coaxed the car back into life, looking over at his sullen passenger. "Where to?"  
  


"Party Island."  
  


Grian raised an eyebrow. Party Island was a place notorious for the scandals that had happened because of alcohol and gambling. Karl, the owner of the island had let businessmen and entrepreneurs convert his island into a holiday resort and reaped the benefits. As such, he is currently one of the richest people in the world, and one of the largest funders of the gangs.  
  


Grian looked at the glittering lights of Party Island as he drove across the bridge. Tommy had fallen asleep, his face pressed against the window. Grian could finally see the suit the younger boy was wearing.  
  


He remembered Tommy as a young, optimistic teen. Sure, he was loud and brash, and he loved to create pranks that were more on the vicious side, but Grian always protected him. From people, from facts, and from life.  
  


Maybe if he hadn't, Tommy might've turned out differently. He might have been safer, or he might not even be in this situation.  
  


Grian parked and cut the engine, leaning his head against the wheel. He exhaled, closing his eyes for a second.  
  


"Charles?" His eyes snapped open, and he looked behind to see Tommy sitting up, rubbing his eyes. "Are we here?"  
  


"Yeah." Grian hesitated. "Do you want me to go in with you?"  
  


Tommy recoiled, but he nodded. He stepped out of the car and shrugged on his coat, and Grian tugged out his mask and fitted it to his face, the smooth metal curving to fit the curves of his cheeks and jaw. He blinked, waiting for the interface to warm up. His vision flickered and reappeared, and he stepped out of the car unsteadily.  
  


"Ready?" Grian looked at the casino where lights pulsed, and somewhere, deep in the heart of the building, three men awaited Tommy Innit's arrival.  
  


Tommy nodded, his face schooled into one of casual indifference. "Oh, I am going to fuck these people over with business." He grinned savagely, sliding into the personality he had created for himself.  
  


Grian nodded jovially and followed the boy. He might be the head of a department, but right now, he was just a Watcher.


	4. Business Bay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BusinessInnit makes an appearance, as well as Watcher Grian

"Tommy."  
  


"Karl." Tommy nodded at the businessman, taking a seat opposite the tycoon. "Long time no see."  
  


Grian stood at attention behind Tommy, using this moment to survey the surroundings. Thanks to his mask, every exit was outlined in green, and everybody's heat signature moved around, dark red blobs in the walls. Grian studied them intently.  
  


There were a lot of people.  
  


"And who is this friend of yours, Tommy? I thought you said you were coming alone."  
  


"He's a Watcher. He's just here to supervise the proceedings." Tommy leant forward. "Karl, I- I have come here with a business proposition."  
  


"Oh, really? What could you possibly offer me?" Karl smiled benignly, leaning back in his chair. "Look around, Tommy. This place is a money making machine."  
  


"I know. Oh, believe me, I know." Tommy sounded bitter, but he ploughed on. "But this will benefit you, I promise."  
  


"Oh?"  
  


"Yes. I want you to allow Sleepy Bois Inc onto Party Island."  
  


Karl looked stunned, and Grian noted an increasing heart rate. "You want what?"  
  


"I want SBI to be able to deal on Party Island." Tommy enunciated slowly. "I want us to be able to conduct business here."  
  


"Why? You have the whole of the North Zone."  
  


"Listen, Karl- Big K! Can I call you Big K? Big K, let me tell you, this city isn't big enough. But Party Island, now that's different."  
  


"Listen-"  
  


"No, you listen Big K. I know your island is a literal SHITHOLE for people to do drugs. It's like- it's like- the lit up version of Pufferfish Alleyway."  
  


"Pufferfish Alleyway?" Karl looked so bemused that Grian couldn't help but smile.  
  


"Yeah, and I could fuck you over so hard by reporting you to the authorities. You know that right? Because the thing is-" Tommy grinned, his smile razor sharp and confident. "-I'm in control here. Not you. Not the police. Me."  
  


Karl was silent, his head bowed as though in prayer. "No."  
  


Tommy leant back. "I expected this." His tone turned louder, brasher, more confident. "But oh boy, are you missing out on getting so much good shit."  
  


For the next two hours, Grian watched as Tommy pulled every trick in his book. He begged. He threatened. He paced. He ranted. He pleaded. He swore; oh god, did he swear. Grian didn't even remember teaching Tommy that kind of language. It was the kind that would have gotten Grian a thrashing if he had even dared to say one of them.  
  


Yet here they were: a teen wearing a business suit and a multi-million tycoon, signing a contract that would allow the Sleepy Bois Inc to deal on the island.  
  


Grian had to hand it to Tommy, the boy knew how to negotiate. He had just closed the deal and even parted with a handshake from Karl. 

  
"Goodbye, Tommy!" Karl waved. Tommy did too, shouting something about dragging his friend here.

  
The moment they got into the car, Tommy crumpled, his eyes opening slower and slower.  
  


"Get some sleep. I'll take you to Phil's, is that okay?" Tommy barely nodded before he leant against the window, his eyes closing.  
  


Grian's mask nudged him with a bright red notification, and he tapped his finger, opening it. He scanned the reams of information quickly, before abandoning the endeavour and doing a search for 'Wilbur''.  
  


_Name: Wilbur Soot_  
_Role: Facilitator of Zone 12 [Codenamed L'manberg]_  
_Status: Alive_  
  


Grian stared at the bright green letters on his screen.  
  


Alive.  
  


Wilbur was alive. He blinked, dismissing his screen and focusing on the roads. He dropped Tommy off at Phil, waving goodbye to the sleepy teen, still clutching onto his contract. He went to a florist and bought a bunch of white orchids and blue hydrangeas and yellow zinnias, using his mask to track down Wilbur's location.  
  


An hour later, he looked up at the blocky shape of the general hospital, his flowers in hand. Grian removed his mask and slid it into his pocket, walking in nervously.  
  


"Hello! Are you here to visit someone?" The nurse smiled. Grian pulled the sleeves of his sweater down, shivering in the freezing atmosphere of the lobby.  
  


"Yes, I would like to visit Wilbur?" He hated how it came out like a question.  
  


The nurse consulted his clipboard and smiled. "You a distant relative?" The nurse waved Grian over, leading him down featureless corridors and rooms where patients lay.  
  


Grian suddenly felt his mask grow heavier in his pocket. "I suppose."  
  


The nurse unlocked the glass sliding door and pushed aside the curtains. "He's in a coma, but he can still hear you."  
  


Grian pushed past the nurse, heading towards Wilbur. He wrapped his own fingers around Wilbur's, threading his stubby digits through long, slender ones. They were cold. Grian settled the flowers into a vase, admiring the splash of colour they brought to the room. Blue and yellow and red.  
  


Wilbur looked terrible. He was encased in bandages, and only a little of his curly brown hair peeked out through the cracks. His lips were cracked, and his complexion was an unhealthy grey. Blood crawled down a tube from a half empty IV bag, and disappeared into his arm.  
  


"Hey, Wilbur," Grian whispered. "I brought you flowers. The nurse said you could hear me, so I guess I just wanted to say...thank you. Thank you for taking care of Tommy for me."  
  


The silence was sticky, clinging to Grian's throat and forcing his words back down. He gasped, choking on unsaid promises and apologies.  
  


"I'm sorry. I know I'm not supposed to cry here, but I can't help it," Grian croaked, burying his face into his sweater. He didn't know why he was crying.  
  


Finally, when his tears had dried, he looked up. Wilbur was still lying there, his breaths quiet and soft. Looking at him, Grian felt a twinge of envy. Wilbur looked so peaceful, away from the troubles of the world. He stood up, wincing at the loud clatter his chair made. 

  
"I'll be back." Grian leant down and intertwined his pinky with Wilbur's. "And I'll bring Tommy along too."

  
He left quickly, unable to talk more than a few brief words to the nurse. 

  
Back in the car, Grian pressed his forehead against the steering wheel, exhaling slowly. He reached out with one hand and twisted the ignition, flicking through the radio channels until he landed on a quiet, smooth jazz.

  
It was too much. He saw Tommy lying in the back of his car, trying to adjust to the hole in his life. He saw a child, desperately trying to carve out a niche for himself in the world. He saw his brother, lost and longing for a role model again.

  
Here in the car, Grian was surrounded by the ghosts of his past.


	5. Dead Men Tell No Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the insane amount of reads and kudos on this fic! THank! :'D

"Mr Minecraft! Are you here to visit-"  
  


"Yes, take me to him."  
  


"I am sorry, but he is still unconscious."  
  


"That doesn't matter. I just want to see him. Please."  
  


The nurse nodded and guided Phil down a corridor. Phil had been in more hospitals than he could help it, to the point that the corridors felt intimately familiar. But this time, he felt the stiff air currents swirl around him, and goosebumps rose. Tommy and Techno walked beside him, unusually quiet.  
  


They were led into a room. Phil looked at the bouquet in the vase, at the dark blue flowers. He moved towards Wilbur, reaching out and touching his hand lightly. Abruptly, he spun on his heel and walked out, swallowing thickly. He sniffed, sinking onto a plastic chair. Tears leaked out, hot and fat. Doctors and nurses walked past him, accustomed to grief and loss.  
  


Tommy hated how Wilbur looked. He was supposed to always have a smile on his face, his guitar slung over his shoulder. He was supposed to be a mentor. He was supposed to be a massive man. He was not supposed to be alive. Phil told him that Wilbur had officially died. But in truth, it was just an excuse to remove his district from him.  
  


The door opened again, and an extremely pretty woman walked in, holding the hand of a young boy. Tommy scowled at the boy, and the boy scowled back.  
  


"Hi, I'm Sally. I'm Wilbur's wife. This is Fundy, his son." She looked slightly out of breath. Bright red hair hung down to her waist, and she had startlingly green eyes. Fundy was bright eyed, and he had the same curly, though slightly more ginger than Wilbur's hair. Sally gently pushed Fundy towards the door. "Why don't you go find Phil, Fundy? There's my good little kit." She shut the door behind him and instantly, her entire demeanour changed.  
  


"I thought- I thought he was dead." Sally's hands fluttered to her mouth, and she staggered closer to Wilbur. "They told me."  
  


Techno touched him gently, heading out and closing the door behind him. The meaning was clear: take care of her.  
  


"Miss Soot?"  
  


Sally laughed and wiped her eyes. "Is that what Will told you his surname was? Just Sally is fine."  
  


"Sally, Wilbur isn't dead. That's great! And if there's anything I learnt from him, is that he doesn't go down without a fight." Tommy remembered the legal battles, the screaming matches in Phil's office, all for his L'manberg. "He's a big man."  
  


"I know he is. I'm just worried. What if, he doesn't- oh god forbid: what if he died?" Tommy watched Sally break down before taking her hand and guiding it towards Wilbur.  
  


"Can you touch him?"  
  


"I- what?"  
  


"Can you touch him, Sally?" Tommy's tone was not unkind, but it left no room for argument.  
  


Slowly, Sally reached out, brushing her ring finger against Wilbur's. "Yes." She whispered. "Yes I can."  
  


Tommy nodded. "Good. Remember that touch. It won't be long until he can hold your hand, miss."  
  


Sally remained silent for a moment, her knuckle still touching Wilbur's. "Thank you." She finally choked out. "Thank you, oh god thank you." She wrapped her arms around Tommy, who patted her awkwardly.  
  


"It's okay."  
  


"Tommy." Techno was at the door. "We gotta go. Phil has something to tell you."  
  


Sally untangled herself from Tommy and shooed him along. "Go ahead. I wanna chat with Wilbur for a bit."  
  


Tommy nodded and waved goodbye to Sally, who was already approaching Wilbur. Fundy dashed into the room, and the door closed.  
  


A familiar figure stood there, his face obscured by the chrome white mask that arched down, past his cheeks and stopped at his chin. The purple symbol turned to Tommy, and he fought back a smile.  
  


"Tommy, this is Grian, the head of intelligence in the Hermitcraft zone. You have met before, but it was when you were really young."  
  


"Pleasure to meet you, Tommy." Grian's voice sounded nothing like what he had remembered. He had never seen Grian so impassive or cold before. He supposed this was how Grian did his work as a Watcher.  
  


"Uhm, hi." Tommy winced as his voice came out louder than expected. "Phil, what's he doing here?"  
  


"He's here to help you settle into your new role as district facilitator."

  
For a moment, Tommy's brain could not comprehend what had just happened. "What? What do you mean?"  
  


"Tommy. We'll talk more about this in the office, shall we? Walls have ears." Tommy glared at Techno's hair. God, he wanted to rip it out of the stupid pig's skull right now and send him into the Emergency Unit. But he bit his lip and silently fumed all the way into Phil's office.

* * *

  
  


Phil sat in his office chair and immediately, Tommy could feel his aura change. Gone was the caring father. This was the man who controlled a Zone.  
  


"Tommy. We are here to help you become a facilitator. You will be learning from Grian, and you will frequently update us." Phil passed a wad of documents to Tommy, but he slapped it out of his hand.  
  


"Tommy..."  
  


"Fuck no. I ain't taking over Wilbur's district." Tommy spat. "The rules say that you can only take over if the facilitator is dead or incapacitated."  
  


"Tommy. You have to understand, L'manberg's facilitator is incapacitated. You are the only one who knows that place well. I am entrusting this to you."  
  


"Fuck you!" Tommy shouted. "You can't just- you can't just treat Wilbur like he's fuckin' dead already! He's still alive! You saw him!!!"  
  


"Tommy. Grow up. You need to take over from Wilbur."  
  


Tommy clenched his fists. "You know what? Yeah, I think I'll take over from Wilbur. But when he comes back-" Tommy saw a flicker of fear in Phil's eyes. "-Me and him? We'll fuck you guys over."


	6. Fuck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HALLO AND THANK YOU FOR READING PRESS POST

"FUCK!!" Tommy emptied an entire clip into a training dummy, most of the shots going wide. He tossed the pistol aside and stormed over and punched it. He did it again and again and again, until he'd quite - literally - beaten the stuffing out of it. All the while, Grian stood by impassively, watching his little brother rage.  
  


As much as he'd loved to scoop Tommy into his arms and soothe the wriggling teenager, he couldn't. For appearance's sake, he couldn't.  
  


He was a Watcher.  
  


Watchers did not interfere. They only observed.  
  


Tommy whirled around, and Grian resisted the urge to step back. His eyes were fierce and wild, and he stepped closer to Grian.  
  


"Grian, I want you to keep a close eye on Wilbur. Please do that for me. I have to be the first to visit him once he wakes up."  
  


"I can do that." What Tommy didn't know was that Grian had already put a Watcher on him 24/7. He would be notified the moment Wilbur so much as stirred.  
  


"Great, now let's get to school. I still have to make Wilbur proud," he muttered.  
  


"What was that?"  
  


"I said that school is for pussies, I'm only going because I need to please Philza, you dickhead!"  
  


Grian smiled to himself. Well, Tommy was loyal, that was for sure.

* * *

  
  
"Tommy! You're back!" Tubbo glanced up as Tommy kicked the classroom door open. The resounding bang made Purpled flinch, and Tommy stormed in. He slammed a hand onto Purpled's table, walking towards Tubbo and collapsing heavily onto his chair.  
  


"Yep. Here I am, alive and kickin'." Tommy grumbled, slouching forward in his seat. Their teacher walked in, setting down her books and fiddling with the monitor. Tommy's eyes drifted out of focus, and he stared out the window.  
  


"So...where are we going?"  
  


"To see L'manberg." Tommy kicked viciously at a stone, glancing behind him. A familiar Watcher mask stared back.  
  


"Cool. What's L'manberg?"  
  


"What the fu- are you fucking kidding me?" Tommy stared at Tubbo.  
  


"No? Where is L'manberg? Is it a drug alleyway?"  
  


Tommy swore he could hear Grian's laughter.  
  


"Tubbo, L'manberg is the best place you could ever fucking be. The facilitator is taking a break, so I'm taking over." Tommy flashed his ID to the guard, who let them step through the electrified fence.  
  


L'manberg had a quaint and rustic feel to it, with dark wood and gothic Victorian houses everywhere. There was yellow and red and blue and white flags everywhere, the colours of the zone.  
  


"This place looks nice."  
  


"Yeah. Yeah it does." Tommy made his way to the central office, flashing his keycard again twice, stopping outside the door of Wilbur's office. Tommy took a deep breath and pushed the door open.  
  


The place felt like Wilbur. Everything felt like it was frozen in time, motes of dust flaring orange in the setting sun. The carpet was plush and white, and it made a bold statement against the dark and pale woods of the office. It smelt like the sea and varnish, and Tommy inhaled it. This was Wilbur's thing. He loved the ocean, and he loved music.  
  


Grian had somehow made his way inside already, seated at the large gaming chair that Wilbur had insisted on bringing in.  
  


Tubbo nudged him. "Who is that?"  
  


"Grian." Tommy looked at the documents on the table. "He's a guardian, I guess. He's supposed to help me through all the legal shit."  
  


"I can help you, you know. I'm a lawyer." Tubbo looked so serious that Tommy was almost convinced.  
  


"Tubbo you take coding in school."  
  


"Yeah, but also law!"  
  


"Law isn't offered in our school, Tubbo."  
  


Grian received a notification from his mask, and he frowned and scanned the lines.  
  


"Tommy?" He said, keeping his voice neutral. "I've got some news for you."  
  


"What is it?"  
  


"It's Wilbur. He's awake."  
  


Tommy's eyes grew wide and shiny, and he turned on his heel, marching to the door.  
  


"Where are you going, Tommy?"  
  


"I'm going to see Wilbur."  
  


Perhaps it was considered unprofessional, but Grian reached out and grabbed onto Tommy's shoulder. "There's more," he said gently. "Wilbur's been moved to a new hospital. He's in the Holy Lands now."  
  


Tommy scowled. "Why'd they put him in the neutral zone for?"  
  


"I suppose it's because they want to keep him safe." Grian tried placating Tommy. "Facilitators make enemies, you know."  
  


"Wilbur would fuck them up so hard they would- oh my god." Tommy pulled out his phone and typed away, turning his back to Tubbo and Tommy.  
  


Tubbo and Grian shared a look.  
  


"Guys? Philza said he'd take me there!" Tommy stuffed his phone back into his uniform pocket.  
  


"Do you need me-"  
  


"No Grian. I think when we meet Wilbur, it should just be me and Phil, like family, you know? Like- you understand, right?"  
  


"Yeah. Yeah of course." Grian turned away, fixing his mask and pretending that didn't hurt as much as it did. It wasn't supposed to, anyway.  
  


Watchers weren't supposed to get attached.


	7. Meeting a familiar stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a bittersweet chapter here. Don't worry, Techno and Tommy interaction next chap. Probably. Maybe.

The hospital that Grian was talking about was a smaller hospital, pushed up against a shopping centre and a park. There was colour in the shape of outdated posters and crayon doodles, and a nurse led them into a room where a large, red carpet was spread out, and seated on it was Tommy's - dare he say it? - brother.

"Hello, I'm Wilbur!" He smiled at Phil, who had frozen on the spot. Wilbur was there but...he wasn't. Wilbur didn't dress like that. Wilbur didn't dress so casually. Had hell frozen over? Tommy squinted at the outfit.

Wilbur had a mustard yellow sweater pulled over his hospital clothes, and his collar and sleeves still peeked out of the garment. He was surrounded by many different pictures, all of them obviously hand drawn. They ranged from semi-complete sketches to childish scribbles, and they were all coloured in various shades of blue. A vase with a bundle of blue flowers was in front of Wilbur, and he seemed to be attempting to draw them. 

"Helloo? Phil? Tommy?" Wilbur waved his hands around, smiling when they started. "Hello there!" 

"What the fuck."

Wilbur frowned. "Tommy, that isn't very nice." 

"What the fuck." Tommy repeated. Phil felt like he was concussed as well. 

"Will? What happened?" Phil whispered.

"Oh, I've never felt better, Phil. I'm so glad you could visit me; Grian kept coming to see me when I was asleep, but I never heard you."

Tommy turned to Phil with accusing eyes, but Phil coughed and walked closer. 

"Philza Minecraft, what the fuck. Why didn't you visit him?" Tommy took a step closer, and he realised that Wilbur still had that grey pallor to his skin. 

"I didn't have time." Phil murmured, as though more to himself than to Tommy. 

"You didn't have time. Oh yeah, and Grian had time to visit." Tommy felt like stabbing someone. "Fuck off, Philza." 

"I-"

"Wilbur, can we talk? In private, please?" He needled Phil with his eyes, glaring at the mafia boss until he backed out of the room.

"Hi- hello Wilbur." Tommy sat down on the carpet, looking at the pictures drawn. 

"Hello, Tommy. How are you doing?" 

"Fine. I'm doing fine." Tommy snapped. This was not how he wanted his first meeting with Awakebur to go. He preferred Asleepbur better. 

A minuscule frown creased Wilbur's forehead. "You seem upset. Here, have some blue." He slid a few sheets of paper over, and Tommy picked them up. He realised that they were song notes, written in blue crayon. Hundreds of them, scribbled over each other and overlapping.

Suddenly, the room felt claustrophobic, with the faded poster walls and the faded carpet. It didn't feel like a place to live in. 

It felt like a place you went to to die. 

"Wilbur, let's go." Tommy pulled Wilbur to his feet, pulling the man out of the hospital. 

"Where are we going? I'm not allowed to leave."

"Who said that?"

"The hospital."

"Fuck the hospital. Fuck this place. It's killing you, Wilbur."

Tommy dragged Wilbur by his hand, across two lanes of traffic and swore profusely at the cars. He pushed the iron wrought gates of the park open and his pace slowed. He looked back at Wilbur, who seemed fine, looking around the park in astonishment. 

Tommy's feet moved by themselves, taking him along a wooden path which led to a man-made cave playground. He stepped off the wooden path and pulled Wilbur to a bench and plopped down, patting the seat beside him.

"Where are we, Tommy?" Wilbur took a cautious seat. 

"The bench." Tommy looked out over the lake, his eyes going out of focus. "Just sit with me, Wilbur."

Tommy fell silent. It was almost possible to tune out the sounds of children playing and pretend it was a hot summer afternoon, and he and Wilbur were playing in that playground, reenacting the rise and fall of empires. 

"Life is good," Wilbur murmured.

And for once, Tommy agreed. 


	8. Brothers-in-arms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: ASSASSINATION AND A LITTLE BLOOD IN THIS. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

"Technoblade..."

"What do you want, Tommy?" Techno turned to look at Tommy, who was fidgeting under his gaze. 

"I want-" Tommy took a deep breath. "IwantyoutocheckuponTubbo'sfamilypleaseandthankyou."

"I'm gonna have to ask you to slow down, Tommy. I didn't hear you at first."

Tommy glared at him, and Techno felt a rush of ecstasy at successfully riling Tommy up.

"Technobitch, I'm asking you to go on a recon mission with me." Tommy enunciated slowly, as though he was speaking to a toddler. 

Techno considered this. Tubbo, his friend? Why would he- oh...perhaps it was because of that. That would make for a good show. He surreptitiously checked his calendar, making sure tonight was free.

"Sure. I don't see why not." Techno rose, towering well above Tommy. "Let's get to Party Island. I want to abuse our privileges and meet with Grian to collect some supplies."

* * *

"Fuckin' hell." Tommy goggled at the ornate meeting room, at the glittering chandelier, at the expensive paintings by Karl. Techno had to admit, Karl had an eccentric taste, painting apocalyptic landscapes and alternate dimensions of the world. 

Grian was lounging on the settee, his dark purple cloak pushed apart to reveal his customary red jumper rolled to his elbows and his grey slacks. His mask was tilted to the side, and he was enjoying a cheese platter. 

"Refreshments. Courtesy of Mr Jacobs." Grian nodded to the sparkling champagne and the cheese platter. 

"Finally! I'm starving." Tommy scooped up a handful of crackers and shoved them into his mouth, washing everything down with some water. 

Techno wrinkled his nose, but said nothing. "Grian, do you have the equipment?"

He nodded. "You can come out now." The air beside Grian shimmered and warped, a few men appearing beside him. One of them was in a wheelchair, one of them had a mechanical device attached to his eye, and one of them had a bushy moustache. But they had all been invisible seconds before. 

Grian waved at them. "These are some of the mechanics in Hermitcraft. I could only get these three on such short notice, but they are the top few engineers. Scar here specializes in camouflage, Iskall works in mechanics and cooperates with Mumbo here."

"Charming, but I didn't ask for a science fair, I asked for equipment."

"And equipment they will provide, Technoblade," Grian said blandly. "After all, this is only a fun trip for brothers, isn't it? No need to waste good items for that."

Techno didn't even want to know how Grian knew, but he had a sneaking suspicion that it might be because of his status. One couldn't be a spy master without being nigh omnipresent. 

"Techno. Technoblade, look!" Techno snapped out of his musings and looked at the pile of equipment that Grian had seemingly produced with thin air, with the help of his three friends. He could see night vision goggles, suits and hundreds of other smaller gizmos. 

"This is all experimental, so it benefits us as much as it does you." The one with the moustache - Mumbo - said. "I will thank you to bring these things back unharmed."

"This is all very advanced technology, and we don't want it falling into the wrong hands." Cyborg Guy - Iskall - chimed in. Techno lifted one of the suits, admiring the sleekness and feel of it. 

"Don't worry. We'll take great care of your gifts. Come on, Tommy. Let's go change."

* * *

"Oh I look so fucking good, Technoblade." Tommy stepped out, turning left and right. He was dressed completely in black, with highlights of dark red. His helmet had a dark red visor, and Techno could spot a few empty holsters where weapons would go.

Techno looked down at his own. It was matching, except for the fact that his streaks were gold instead of red. There wasn't a whisper of sound as the fabric bent and rubbed, and Techno could conclude that this was incredibly impressive. 

"Grian, thank you." Techno nodded at the Watcher, whose lips twitched upwards. 

"It's no problem. Anything for a friend." As one, the group of four turned and walked out, the suddenly faulty lights messing with their escape.

Tommy poked Techno in the arm, bouncing up and down on his heels. "Come on, come on! Let's go already!" He had put his regular clothes over, so only the sleeves of the outfit peeked out. 

"Alright, just lemme..."

* * *

"Seriously? We're going to do a job?" Tommy stared incredulously as Techno folded papers into a little compartment on his wrist. They had gone back to HQ to collect a job that Techno had lying around. 

"No, I won't be doing the job. You will." Techno fixed him with a glare. "Now, go get a rifle from the armoury. Nothing too heavy or bulky, but don't be cheap about it."

Tommy stormed down the stairs, shoving past several people and kicking open the door. His eyes lit up, and he surveyed the gun racks greedily. 

Tommy lifted up one of the guns that lay on the workbench and hooked his finger through the trigger. Chekov's gun. Wilbur's affectionately named rifle. It was apparently some stupid metaphor or something else that meant something symbolic, but Tommy couldn't care less. But for this mission, it would be perfect. He dismantled the gun, sliding each part into a foam supported suitcase. He clicked it shut and lifted it, walking back into Techno's office. 

Techno looked up when Tommy walked in, lugging the case through the door. "Finally, let's get a move on." He guided Tommy to the garage, where two sleek, shiny motorcycles stood there, in the middle of the room. 

"Oh, sick! Do I get my own bike?" Tommy ran over to the two vehicles, running his hands over the leather seat, the frame of the motorcycle, everything. He looked up at Techno, his eyes shining. 

"I suppose. Do you even know how to drive?" Tommy's smile dropped, and he kicked at the floor. 

"No," he muttered. 

Techno stared at Tommy for a long while before jerking his head in the direction of his own bike. "Get on."

"What- why? Why don't I get my own bike?" Tommy whined, climbing onto the backseat and stowing his case away. He pulled his helmet on and toggled the camera, watching as the computer booted up.

"I don't trust you to wreck one of our prized vehicles is why." Techno revved the machine and roared out of the garage, flicking on the GPS and heading towards their destination.

* * *

They set up on a high rise building, with Techno getting access to the roof by speaking politely.

Meanwhile, Tommy fixed up his gun and aimed down the sights. Good, everything was in position. Tommy pulled off his helmet and sprawled out on the still-warm concrete, placing his eye to the trigger. Three men walked out of the door: One with a beanie, one with a pair of clout goggles, and one who had sideburns. 

Quackity, George and Schlatt respectively. But they were not Tommy's targets tonight. Tonight's target was-

"I've got eyes on the package, Big T," Tommy mumbled.

Techno focused on his binoculars again, and Tommy grimaced as the squeaking of the binoculars poked at his ears. 

Sure enough, one of their contacts walked out with them, shaking hands with Schlatt. That contact had betrayed them, and now he was selling out information?

What a fuckin' weirdo. Schlatt didn't even have hundreds of women milling around him.

Tommy calmed himself, timing his breaths and watching his target. He got into a taxi and drove away. 

"Tommy..." Techno's tone only served to heighten his senses, and he smiled against his cheek rest. He squeezed the feather like trigger, and the gun bucked against him. He couldn't see it, but the bullet buried itself into the skull of the contact, splattering a fine mist of blood across the window. 

Tommy unclipped his rifle and dismantled it, moving quickly and robotically. He pushed the parts into the foam casing again, and he reached for his helmet. But Techno stopped him and pointed down. 

Schlatt was looking at them. Dead centre, right into his eyes. 

"He knows." Techno whispered. "We can't hide."

Tommy wanted to retort, but he realised what it meant. Techno's bright pink hair made it difficult to mistake him for someone else, but Tommy had removed his helmet. His bright yellow hair was literally a flare for everyone. 

"Let me do the talking, Technoblade." 

"No, you will let me do the talking. You put the muzzle on." Techno pulled out the metal contraption and waited until Tommy had affixed it to his face before looping his arm around Tommy. 

"Let's go talk politics now."  



	9. Get your dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooh, boy do I have things planned for this fic! Hope you're enjoying it so far :)

"Helloo." Techno waved, nudging Tommy behind him. He growled, but suddenly froze. A familiar blond haired boy stared back at him, his eyes wide with shock.   
  


"Tommy?" He whispered.  
  


Tommy shook his head minutely. Not now. Tubbo's eyes cleared, and he nodded back. He turned back to Schlatt, who was looking at Tommy's muzzle with interest.   
  


"He violent?" Schlatt jerked his head at Tommy, who grumbled, his protests muffled by the metal cage. The metallic parts were cushioned by leather, but it still pushed and chafed against his cheeks. He scratched at the leather absently.   
  


"Not really. But he bites." Techno glanced down at Tommy, and his eyes flicked to Techno's red eyes.   
  


"He bites? Oh, fucking- really? He bites?"  
  


"Yeah. I mean- he doesn't not bite, but he's usually more bark than bite." Techno rolled his shoulders, punctuating his motion with a roll of his eyes.   
  


"Oh? You know, I saw something real interesting today, Mr T."  
  


"And that is?"   
  


"I saw two people, perched on the top of a building - that building over there, in fact - and you know what? I saw pink hair."  
  


Tommy glared at his brother-in-arms. God fucking damn Technoblade and his long ass pink hair. Why did he even have to have pink hair anyway? Tommy nudged Techno, who ignored him. He growled, and Schlatt chuckled.   
  


"Wow, you've got a feisty one on your hands."   
  


"It seems so." Techno waved goodbye to Schlatt, turning around. Tommy did so too, but a familiar click stopped them both dead in their tracks.  
  


"Now hold on a minute. I never said you could leave, did I?" Schlatt smiled gently, the muzzle of the gun glinting golden in the lamplight.   
  


"Now now, we don't have to get violent."   
  


"You're right, we don't." Schlatt jerked his gun barrel in the direction of a black limousine. "Get in, or I blow your fucking head apart."  
  


Tommy snarled, but he complied. Techno was the only one who could take the muzzle off, since it required fingerprint identification and Tommy could hardly reach around and feel around for the block of metal.   
  


Techno slipped in and looked at Schlatt. "Where to?"  
  


Schlatt took a swig from a flask that he kept in the car and smacked his lips. "None of your business, Technoblade."  
  


"I'm just saying, maybe a drunk guy with a gun isn't the best navigator in the world, but beggars can't be choosers I suppose." Techno commented mildly, turning to the road.   
  


They drove in silence for a while, and Tommy had begun to doze off before Schlatt slammed on the brakes so hard Tommy slid off the seat, onto the floor where he lay, dazed and confused. Dimly, he could hear Schlatt swearing viciously about some "stupid fucker" who "couldn't read the road signs, what is he? Blind?" and "dressed like a fucking traffic cone too, what the hell-"  
  


"Tommy. Tommy get up, it's Wilbur." Techno whispered. A surge of fear roared through Tommy, and he shot up, adrenaline pumping and fight or flight instinct activated. He gestured to his muzzle, and Techno sighed, reaching around the back. He heard a click, and the pressure on his jaw was relieved. He worked his jaw around, glad to have it released.   
  


He jumped out of the car and waved to the bewildered man, running towards him.   
  


"Wilbur!" He called out.  
  


He was better dressed, with that mustard yellow sweater again, but this time, paired with a button down and grey slacks.   
  


Wilbur's face, which had been clouded with confusion, cleared and he smiled at Tommy.   
  


"Tommy! It's great to see you again!"   
  


"Wilbur, why aren't you in the hospital?"  
  


"I was discharged a few days ago- did Phil not tell you?"  
  


"No," Tommy muttered. He was going to be having a few words with Philza Minecraft.   
  


"Well I'm here now! I've been doing a lot of reading and writing and- where are we going, Tommy?" Tommy grabbed Wilbur's hand and took off, hearing shouts and gunshots from behind. He ducked into an alleyway and peeked out, ducking back in when gunshots peppered the concrete.   
  


"Wilbur, please tell me you have a safe place. Techno and Schlatt are going to fuck me over so hard."  
  


"I have a library?" 

* * *

  
  
Techno stared at the alleyway in disbelief. He could not believe the gall of the little gremlin. He just ran off- oh, speak of the devil.   
  


Tommy dashed out, holding Wilbur's hand who looked lost and confused. He turned to Techno, his eyes shining with glee.   
  


"Suck it, nerd!!" He screamed, flipping them the bird and running off, his maniac cackles bouncing off the empty buildings. 

  
Techno heard the cock of a gun, but Tubbo was faster. His eyes were wide, but the hand that held the gun was steady. 

  
"Tubbo? Against your own kin?" Schlatt looked incredulous. 

  
"I'm not going to let you kill Tommy's friend." Tubbo's voice was calm and steady. "Leave now, before I do something we both will regret."

  
Schlatt snorted. "You wouldn't dare."

  
Faster than Techno could blink, there was a smoking hole in Schlatt's shoe, and Tubbo was cocking the gun again. 

  
Schlatt laughed, tossing the gun at his feet. "Not bad. You even missed my toes; I taught you well."

  
"Go!" Schlatt walked back to the parliament building, and with a mocking salute, disappeared. 

  
Techno snatched up the gun and glanced around, seeing curious faces peeping out from behind curtains. He placed a hand on Tubbo's shoulder and guided him into the car, winding up the windows. 

  
"That gun work was phenomenal. Schlatt taught you that?" Techno jump started the car, making a mental note to retrieve the bike, which was still hidden under a plastic sheet, under the alleyway. 

  
"Yeah. He said that I needed to learn how to protect myself in L'manberg-"

  
"Wait a minute. You were from L'manberg?"

  
Tubbo blinked. "Yeah. I grew up there and went to school there. It's how I met Tommy."

  
"Who's Schlatt to you?" 

  
"He's my guardian, I suppose. He keeps me fed and loves me, but alcohol makes him crazy." Tubbo fell silent, fiddling with the latch of the suitcase. "Do you- do you think Tommy will be okay?"

  
Techno glanced back in surprise. He had never seen anyone care for Tommy outside of the family. Tommy didn't exactly have a likeable character. "Don't worry. I'm sure Tommy won't do anything stupid. Robbery hasn't been a big thing on his to-do list lately."

* * *

  
  
"This is a robbery, bitch!" Tommy grinned, brandishing a gun - Mellohi - at the bemused cashier.   
  


"He's joking," Wilbur assured him, pushing the gun down. Even if he had no memory to speak of, he knew that pointing a gun at someone was terrible manners.   
  


The cashier stared at the till with half-closed eyes, pointedly ignoring Tommy's screaming. He rung up the sandwiches, chips and coke, putting the things into a plastic bag. "Ten pounds fifteen pence." He mumbled, and thanked Wilbur when he passed the money over.   
  


Wilbur dragged Tommy to the headquarters, fumbling under his sweater and withdrawing the key that Phil gave him. It was a diamond shaped block, and he pushed it into the override button. The lift shuddered and slid down.   
  


Wilbur watched the numbers flicker, then disappear completely as they descended into the unmarked depths of the headquarters. Finally, the doors open and Wilbur walked out, aware that Tommy had gone silent.   
  


"Tommy?"   
  


Wilbur headed towards the door at the end of the featureless corridor, unlocking the door with his key and waving Tommy in. He shut it again, locking it behind him.   
  


"Wilbur? Where are we?" Tommy looked around at the room, wandering around slowly.   
  


"My library. Phil wanted me to stay close to him, so he suggested I stay here." Wilbur crossed the living room and opened the little fridge, stowing the coke away. He dropped onto the red sofa, waving Tommy over. "Sorry, this place doesn't have signal, so I have books instead." He waved awkwardly at the dark oak bookshelves, stuffed with volumes of every kind.   
  


Tommy still looked shell-shocked, wandering the small apartment. "You live like this?" He asked.   
  


Wilbur shrugged. "Better than being in a hospital. I've been through worse." He picked up a book and flipped through it absently.   
  


Wilbur watched Tommy wander around his home, a soft smile playing on his lips.   
  


Maybe starting anew wasn't so bad.


	10. It don't bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Caring Wilbur brother pog?? Awesamdad [slightly] POG??

"Tommy? Could I talk to you?" Tubbo's eyes flicked to the crowds around them. "Alone, please."  
  


Tommy shrugged and followed Tubbo to the garden for the students. No one ever went there.  
  


"What do you wanna talk about?" Tommy hooked a thumb into his pocket, staring at Tubbo, who twisted his hands together.  
  


"I- I have a job for you." Tubbo stuttered. "But you have to take my shots; or leave it."  
  


Tommy's eyebrows just about left Earth's atmosphere. What Tubbo had just said was code for "I have a job, but you do it on my terms". Now, that in itself wasn't weird. But he had just used SBI's code.  
  


"Oh, I'm looking for a bar. Any recommendations?" Tommy responded; he was interested, lay the details out.  
  


Tubbo's eyes widened. "Uhm- I- I heard the North Nautilus is good?"  
  


He wanted an assassination done.  
  


Tommy sucked in his lip, chewing on it contemplatively. "What kind of drinks are we talking? Scotch, after darks or autumn sunrise?"  
  


Sniper, night or afternoon?  
  


"My preferred is spice night."  
  


Tubbo wanted them to be stabbed to death.  
  


"What about the location?"  
  


"Oh, the Grand Casa."  
  


Tommy tilted his head, but before he could answer, the school bell rang. Both of them glanced up.  
  


"Tubbo, I'll call you later. But Dream is going to fucking kill me if I miss another of his class takin' a big poo."  
  


"Oh- oh okay."  
  


Tommy waved to Tubbo and jumped up the stairs, shoving past several people and damn near breaking down the door. Dream looked up, his hand poised above his books.  
  


"Tommy? Take a seat." He waved Tommy to his chair, and just as Tommy sat down, Tubbo came barrelling in, his eyes wild.  
  


"Oh my god I forgot I had a class! I'm sorry, Mr WasTaken."  
  


For some reason, Tommy burst out laughing. Maybe it was because he didn't feel too well. "Was Taken? Who are you taken by, Gogy?"  
  


Dream spluttered, and the rest of the class erupted in sniggers.  
  


"What? What are you talking about?"  
  


"Yeah yeah, you can lie all you want, but I saw you goggling him."

* * *

  
  
"And this is why you were sent to my office?" Sam sighed and pinched his forehead. "Tommy, you have to learn to keep your mouth closed. Even better, you might consider trying to control your words."  
  


Tommy scowled, looking down at his untied shoelaces. "It's not my fault, innit? I wanna talk to people, but I only know how to make enemies I suppose."  
  


"Tommy. Is there anything going on at home that you need help with?"  
  


The thought of telling his family troubles to the principal was laughable. What was he supposed to say? Oh, yeah I have a brother who recently lost his mind and then his memory and a father who deals with a crime syndicate. Did I mention my bloodthirsty other brother who worships the "Blood God" and has a devoted following?

  
Yeah, no.  
  


"No." Tommy said, a little too loud. "Everything is fine."  
  


Sam gave him a long look. "You know, if you ever need help, I'm always here, Tommy."  
  


"Since when do you even leave your office?" Tommy blurted out. He winced, but Sam chuckled.  
  


"You really can't control that mouth of yours, can you? For your information, I do actually leave the office. The food at Applebee's is amazing." Tommy sputtered, but Sam gently led him out, a big smile on his face. "See you soon, Tommy."  
  


"Bye, big man!" The words were out before he could even stop them. He smiled, confident that he had made a new friend.

* * *

  
  
"What the- Philza?" Tommy's good mood faded, looking at Wilbur, Techno and Phil. Usually, when all four of them were in a room, chaos ensued. Whether it was the good kind or the bad kind depended on whatever came out of their mouths.  
  


"Tommy, we have a job for you."  
  


The bad kind, then.  
  


"What kind of-"  
  


"Tommy, you've met Schlatt, haven't you? He's wanted by the government for unlawful activities, including criminal activities, unlawful possession of drugs and drug trafficking. And he's running for the parliament."  
  


"I don't know about that last one, Techno. He's just a guy in the public eye."  
  


Wilbur coughed, hiding a spreading smile with his sleeve. "Trying to do what's best for his republic?"  
  


Both of them shared a chuckle at that.  
  


"Wilbur, leave."  
  


"Yes sir." Wilbur rose, patting Tommy on the back. He closed the door behind him, and his footsteps faded away.  
  


"Now, as I was saying. We have a job for you, and it is going to be your first solo. Are you up for that?"  
  


"Fuck yeah I am."  
  


"If you'd please," Philza said mildly. "Do not swear in my presence."  
  


"Sorry big m- sorry sir," Tommy muttered.  
  


"The details will be sent to you soon. Keep your eyes peeled. Dismissed."  
  


Tommy bolted for the door, glad to be free. He found Wilbur in the cafeteria, nursing a cup of hot chocolate.  
  


"Wilbur, what do I do?" He flopped down from across Wilbur gracelessly, scowling at the sky blue mug.

  
"What do you mean? I remember you were always so excited when you were given a co-op job. You should be happy! Not many people get their first solo this young."

  
"Yeah, but-" Tommy grasped at words; they were Wilbur's thing, not his. "I don't want to do this anymore, Wilbur. All this killing- fuck, I almost lost you!" There, Tommy had said it. Wilbur was still looking at him with that childish innocence, and not for the first time, Tommy found himself envying Wilbur. He had no problems in the world, he was completely oblivious of everything and he saw the world through rose-tinted glasses.  
  


"You don't need to worry about me. I'm safe with Phil. Do what your heart tells you to, Tommy."  
  


"I don't want a fuckin- Tubbo gave me a job."  
  


Wilbur arched an eyebrow. "That's not supposed to happen, is it?"  
  


"No! No, it isn't. Tubbo just used the goddamn code for SBI, Wilbur."  
  


"I suggest you don't think too much into it." Wilbur reached out and laid a hand on Tommy's. "Everyone has secrets. Tubbo'll tell you his soon enough. I know it."  
  


"Thanks, Wilby," Tommy sighed.  
  


A familiar, shit-eating grin spread across Wilbur's face. "Did you just call me Wilby?" He sounded absolutely delighted by it.  
  


"What- no!"  
  


"You called me Wilby, you did you did! You're going to make me cry, Tommy."  
  


"Oh, I swear to god Wilbur, please shut the fuck up."


	11. Yes it do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audience takeover!! 
> 
> Thank you for following me to the end of this fic, I appreciate it! All the comments, kudos are greatly appreciated and treasured. I would like to thank Glitching for giving me this prompt, Phecda, Aerin, Aleks, Diamon,and many otherswhichhelpedbutmytinybraincannotcomprehend-
> 
> And lastly, you. Thank you for picking this book to read
> 
> [God, I sound so formal and weepy. ONTO THE STORY NOW]

"Wilbur?"  
  


"Yeah?"  
  


"If I start a business...could you help me? You're better with contracts and stuff. I don't know how to draft all those."  
  


"Tommy, I could teach you. That way, you can at least be independent."  
  


"But I don't want to be independent. Big men don't get shit themselves."  
  


Wilbur looked up from his book at Tommy, who was scowling over his essay. The younger boy had taken to bringing his homework down to Wilbur's room to do, claiming he could leech off of Wilbur.  
  


"Tommy, I'm going for therapy."  
  


Tommy looked up, his pen halting its movement. "What?"  
  


"I'm going for therapy, Tommy. I want to remember again."  
  


"Why?"  
  


Wilbur reached down and unwrapped Tommy's hand from around the pen, weighing it in his hand. "I suppose it's because Phil has been hinting at me to go. Or the fact that every time I reminisce about the halcyon days, Techno suddenly has to attend a meeting with Phil."  
  


"But Wilbur...aren't you happy?"  
  


"I guess. But not being able to talk to my loved ones doesn't make me happy." Wilbur sat back, sinking back into his book as the familiar scratching of pen on paper started up again.

* * *

  
  
"Tommy?" Phil knocked softly on the doorframe. "I need to talk to you."  
  


"What is it, big man? I'm busy."  
  


"So you know your friend, Tubbo?" Phil's tone was light; too light.  
  


Tommy set his stuff down and looked up. Warning bells were ringing in his ears. "Yeah?"  
  


"Well I figured, maybe you want him in? It could certainly be arranged."

  
Tommy looked at Phil like he had just grown two heads. "No!"  
  


Phil shrugged. "Suit yourself, mate."  
  


"Oh, and Phil? This is my last job for the family. After this, I quit."

* * *

  
  
Tommy looked at the building, his hand tightening on his case of equipment.  
  


His first and last solo. After that...well, he didn't know, but he would figure it out. Maybe he would start a business. He did have an affinity for talking. He shoulder his briefcase and entered the Grand Casa.  
  


Tommy glanced around, taking note of the exits and windows. He moved slowly, lifting a flute of champagne and stealthily pouring it out and refilling it as the night passed. He played a few games, lost a few hundred dollars, until he saw him.  
  


His target was heading up to the second floor, his arm looped around a woman. Tommy plucked out the mask that Grian had made for him and slipped it on, waiting for the computer to boot up. He blinked several times, watching as the dark red blob settled down.  
  


He had to move quickly.  
  


He picked up an abandoned tray of drinks and headed up, his gun hidden behind his back as he ascended. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, his hands sweaty in the gloves. Tommy placed the tray of drinks down onto the table where the man luxuriated and stood up, his finger tightening on the trigger.

  
Then, the room exploded.

  
Tommy was thrown backwards out of the room, and he skidded across the landing, gasping for breath. The computer on his face was registering hundreds of bombs lighting up everywhere, and with a sinking feeling, he realised what was happening.

  
The man wasn't his target.

  
A trap.

  
His ears were ringing when another bomb went off literally under his feet, throwing him to the side again. People were screaming, and Tommy wrenched the stupid computer off his face, looking around. The place was going up in flames. He pulled himself up, staggering towards an exit. A thick, hairy arm looped around his neck and sent him crashing to the floor.

  
"Little man. No hard feelings, but boss's orders are law."

  
Tommy vaguely recognised the voice as someone from SBI, but his hearing kept cutting out. The hand wrapped around his neck, and he struggled for air. It tightened, and he went limp, black spots encroaching on his vision. He flailed his hands around and his fingers burnt themselves on a hot piece of metal. He traced the shape of a gun and grabbed it, pushing it against the person's head and pulling the trigger.

  
A burst of blood splattered onto Tommy, and he gasped, pushing the corpse away from him.

  
"Tommy!" A shrill voice rang through the place, and he whipped his head around. "Tommy....here!!"

  
"Tubbo? Tubbo!?" He got up, staggering around, coughing as the smoke entered his lungs. He found Tubbo crouched beside Schlatt, who was lying in a pool of blood.

  
"Help me! Oh god, he's dead! He's dead, Tommy!" Tubbo's tear streaked face looked up at him, and Tommy grabbed Tubbo and pulled him away from the body of his uncle, enveloping him in a hug.

  
"Shhh, it's going to be okay, it's going to be alright," he whispered.

  
Then the sirens made themselves known.

  
There was a cracking sound, and Tommy looked up to see a large beam swinging downwards, silent and deadly. He shoved Tubbo out of the way, and the wood crashed across his vision, hot metal spilling into his mouth and into his brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Good End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894404/chapters/71977692).
> 
> [Bad End](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28894404/chapters/71977737).


	12. Good End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Congratulations! You've chosen the good ending. No angst, eh?

"Tubbo!!"  
  


Tubbo whipped around, seeing Tommy pressed under a large beam. He sprinted for Tommy, heaving against the heavy mahogany wood.Tommy's eyes were wide and glistening, and when he withdrew his leg, it was soaked in red.  
  


"Tubbo, it fucking hurts, they're going to come and take me away please-" he fell into mumbles, and Tubbo looked around frantically. The casino was in flames, bodies strewn around.   
  


"No." Tubbo said, steeling himself. "I'm not leaving. Not without you, Tommy." He pushed a gun towards Tommy and lifted his own.   
  


"Tubbo..." Tommy looked past Tubbo, to the lights washing the walls red and blue.  
  


"No, Tommy. I'll cover you. Get to safety."  
  


"Tubbo, no- they'll fucking kill you!"   
  


"They won't. Schlatt is a terrible man, and all of his relatives are feared." Tubbo cocked his gun. "I won't let them kill me or you, Tommy. Go."  
  


Tubbo whipped around, firing into the smoke as Tommy crawled away, pushing the gun in front of him.   
  


Gunfire and screams echoed in his ears.  
  


10 YEARS LATER...  
  


Tommy checked his watch, glancing up at the door. He looked behind him, where a greying man stood, smiling.   
  


"It's okay. You'll do fine." 

  
Tommy smiled nervously. "Thanks, Sam."  
  


"Don't forget to visit later, you got it? You kept pestering me all night long, god I almost had to take my pills."  
  


Tommy engulfed Sam in a hug, burying his face into the older man's shoulder. "Thank you, Sam Nook."  
  


"Hey. This is your final task, and then your hotel will be open." Sam smiled, patting Tommy on his back. He turned back to the hotel, big gleaming letters declaring that this was the Big Innit Hotel.   
  


The moment the navy blue ribbon was cut, crowds surged into the lobby, and Tommy let himself be buoyed by the crowd, answering questions and posing for pictures.   
  


It was only when he was talking a journalist then did he see them.   
  


His "family". They watched him from afar, Philza and Techno staring silently. Wilbur was nowhere to be seen. He stared them down for a moment before turning away, immersing himself in the atmosphere. 

* * *

  
  
"Hello, Tommy!" Sam smiled, his eyes crinkling. Tommy dropped his coat, looking around with wide eyes. Tubbo, Sam and Grian were stood around a large cake, and streamers and a large banner with "CONGARTS BIG MAN" hung over their heads.   
  


"Guys?" Tommy asked, his tone small and wondrous.   
  


"They wanted to celebrate the opening of the Big Innit Hotel, and who was I to deny a little party?" Sam waved Tommy over. "Come here, son."  
  


Tommy drifted forward, staring at Tubbo. He was dressed in a suit as well, but there were some key differences. He was wearing a sash, and a button proclaiming-  
  


"Tubbo, you're president!"  
  


"I am! I am!" He smiled, opening his arms and letting Tommy plough into him. "We're gonna celebrate!"  
  


The door opened, and Tommy's head snapped around at the familiar baritone. "Welcome folks, to the Tubbo Administration!"  
  


Wilbur was standing there, dressed in a simple beige jumper and jeans.  
  


"Wilbur? Are you back...back?"   
  


Wilbur smiled that smile. The smile he had when Tommy made him proud, or when Tommy loudly proclaimed that Wilbur was his brother. His smile.   
  


"It took a little time, but I'm back- with new memories."   
  


"Enough about them, what about me?"   
  


"Alright, Grian. I appreciate you, my biggest shareholder."   
  


"Now, let's eat!"  
  


"Fuck yeah, the cake looks great!!"  
  


"Thank you! Did you know, Sam and I baked it?"  
  


"Tubbo, baking? How has the house not set on fire yet?"

  
. 

  
. 

  
.


	13. Bad End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp. You've chosen it.

"Tubbo!!"  
  


Tubbo whipped around, seeing Tommy pressed under a large beam. He sprinted for Tommy, heaving against the heavy mahogany wood.Tommy's eyes were wide and glistening, and when he withdrew his leg, it was soaked in red.  
  


"Tubbo, it fucking hurts, they're going to come and take me away please-" he fell into mumbles, and Tubbo looked around frantically. The casino was in flames, bodies strewn around.   
  


"No." Tubbo said, steeling himself. "I'm not leaving. Not without you, Tommy." He pushed a gun towards Tommy and lifted his own.   
  


"Tubbo..." Tommy looked past Tubbo, to the lights washing the walls red and blue.  
  


"No, Tommy. I'll cover you. Get to safety."  
  


"Tubbo, no- they'll fucking kill you!"   
  


"They won't. Schlatt is a terrible man, and all of his relatives are feared." Tubbo cocked his gun. "I won't let them kill me or you, Tommy. Go."  
  


Tubbo whipped around, firing into the smoke as Tommy crawled away, pushing the gun in front of him.   
  


Gunfire and screams echoed in his ears.  
  


**10 YEARS LATER...**   
  


"Your Honour, are you sure about this case?" The guard walked down the cells, his hand resting on the taser. "He has been...difficult."  
  


"I'm sure of it."  
  


The guard unlocked a cell and pressed his thumbprint against a scanner. The door buzzed, and it opened slowly. A single metal door opened, its hinges creaking ominously. Inside the padded cell, a single person sat.   
  


The years had not been kind to him.  
  


His hands and legs were cuffed, and he had a muzzle clamped over his face. His blonde hair hung to his shoulders in greasy locks. But his eyes were bright and alert, and they followed Tubbo's every move.   
  


"You'll want to talk with him, right? I'll leave you to it. Give the machine a shout, alright?" The guard pointed at the intercom and left, shutting the door behind him.   
  


Tubbo stepped forward and removed the gag. "Tommy. I'm here to get you out, okay?"  
  


Tommy chuckled. His voice had become more raspy. "Hello, Big man. It's good to see you again."  
  


"Nice to see you too. How's prison?"  
  


"Fuckin' shit. The food here- oh my god it's terrible. I would rather get shanked than eat another day of that slop."  
  


"Understandable." Tubbo nodded. "I hope it was at least better than hospital food?"  
  


Tommy laughed, which transformed into a hideous rasp. "You're being real funny now, you know that Tubbo?"  
  


"I wasn't aware." Tubbo unclipped his briefcase and pulled out a wad of paper. "I'm going to get you out, big man. I swear it."


End file.
